Part 9 (1/2)

”I have pa.s.sed a dreary time,” replied the fairy. ”I have been compelled to leave Europe and fly across to Africa, for my enemy inhabits that great hollow dome which is the centre of the earth, and he can only come up in Europe; but my poor little brown wings were often so weary in my flight across the sea that I wished, like the birds, I could drop into the waves and die; for what was to me the use of immortality when I could no longer soothe the sorrow of mortals? But I cannot die; and after I had fluttered across into Egypt, where the glaring light of the sun almost blinded me, I was thankful to find a ruined tomb or temple underground, where great marble sarcophagi were ranged around the walls, and where in the dusky light I could rest from my travels, in a place where I only knew the difference between night and day by the redness of the one sunbeam which stole in through a crevice, and the silvery blue of the moonbeam that succeeded it.

”In that temple there was no sound but the rustling of the bats' wings as they flew in before dawn, or sometimes the chirping of a swallow which had lost its way, and was frightened to see all the grim marble faces gazing at it. But the quietness did me good, and I waited, hoping that the young King of Sweden would marry, and that an heir would be born to him (for I am a Swedish fairy), and then I should recover my liberty according to an ancient statute of the fairy realm, and my wand would also come again into my possession; but alas! he is dead, and the reason you see me to-day is, that, like the rest of my race, I am come to strew leaves on his grave and recount his virtues. I must now return, for the birds are stirring; I hear the cows lowing to be milked, and the maids singing as they go out with their pails. Farewell, little Hulda; guard well the bracelet; I must to my ruined temple again. Happy for me will be the day when you see my enemy (if that day ever comes); the bird will warn you of his neighborhood by pecking your hand.

”One moment stay, dear fairy,” said Hulda. ”Where am I most likely to see the gnome?”

”In the south,” replied the fairy, ”for they love hot suns.h.i.+ne. I can stay no longer. Farewell.”

So saying, the fairy again became a moth and fluttered to the window.

Little Hulda opened it, the brown moth settled for a moment upon her lips as if it wished to kiss her, and then it flew out into the suns.h.i.+ne, away and away.

Little Hulda watched her till her pretty wings were lost in the blue distance; then she turned and took her bracelet, and put it on her wrist, where, from that day forward, she always wore it night and day.

Hulda now grew tall, and became a fair young maiden, and she often wished for the day when she might go down to the south, that she might have a better chance of seeing the cruel gnome, and as she sat at work in her room alone she often asked the bird to sing to her, but he never sang any other songs than the two she had heard at first.

And now two full years had pa.s.sed away, and it was again the height of the Norway summer, but the fairy had not made her appearance.

As the days began to shorten, Hulda's cheeks lost their bright color, and her steps their merry lightness; she became pale and wan. Her parents were grieved to see her change so fast, but they hoped, as the weary winter came on, that the cheerful fire and gay company would revive her; but she grew worse and worse, till she could scarcely walk alone through the rooms where she had played so happily, and all the physicians shook their heads and said, ”Alas! alas! the lord and lady of the castle may well look sad: nothing can save their fair daughter, and before the spring comes she will sink into an early grave.”

The first yellow leaves now began to drop, and showed that winter was near at hand.

”My sweet Hulda,” said her mother to her one day, as she was lying upon a couch looking out into the suns.h.i.+ne, ”is there anything you can think of that would do you good, or any place we can go to that you think might revive you?”

”I had only one wish,” replied Hulda, ”but that, dear mother, I cannot have.”

”Why not, dear child?” said her father. ”Let us hear what your wish was.”

”I wished that before I died I might be able to go into the south and see that wicked pedlar, that if possible I might repair the mischief I had done to the fairy by restoring her the wand.”

”Does she wish to go into the south?” said the physicians. ”Then it will be as well to indulge her, but nothing can save her life; and if she leaves her native country she will return to it no more.”

”I am willing to go,” said Hulda, ”for the fairy's sake.”

So they put her on a pillion, and took her slowly on to the south by short distances, as she could bear it. And as she left the old castle, the wind tossed some yellow leaves against her, and then whirled them away across the heath to the forest. Hulda said:

”Yellow leaves, yellow leaves, Whither away?

Through the long wood paths How fast do ye stray!”

The yellow leaves answered:

”We go to lie down Where the spring snowdrops grow, Their young roots to cherish Through frost and through snow.”

Then Hulda said again to the leaves:

”Yellow leaves, yellow leaves, Faded and few, What will the spring flowers Matter to you?”

And the leaves said:

”We shall not see them, When gaily they bloom, But sure they will love us For guarding their tomb.”